


Deal or no Deal

by ModSoul



Series: Chance Meetings [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon deal, Gen, Loss, Meeting Fans, meeting readers, the books are real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModSoul/pseuds/ModSoul
Summary: If you could bring back someone you love, would you do it, if you know what awaits you down the line?
Series: Chance Meetings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1276772
Kudos: 6





	Deal or no Deal

Silently she said at the counter, lost in faraway thoughts. The bartender knew better than to chat her up and kept himself to refilling her glass whenever she motioned for him to do so. She didn't want to get drunk, so she stirred the little umbrella in her drinks around for a while before she took a sip of it or alternatively downed the alcoholic liquid in one go.  
Far into her second hour of following this pattern one of the other patrons seated himself beside her. He gave her a bright smile that she repaid by barely lifting the corners of her lips. She didn't feel like smiling. The guy ordered a drink for himself and let her be.  
  
"Want to talk about it?", he asked after a while; taking a sip from his glass.  
She looked at him for a moment. He seemed like a nice and decent guy with his perfectly fitted suit and well-kept beard, but she still replied: "Not really" with an apologetic smile, the best she could muster.  
"That's fine. Just for the record: I'm all ears if you change your mind," he commented, raising his glass to a toast.  
She sighed and stared at her own empty glass, twirling its slender stem between her fingers.  
"Let me get that for you," he offered, gesturing for the bartender.  
"Thank you," she said to both of them when her glass was refilled.  
She toasted to him as a thank you and took a sip. On the one hand, did she feel like a terribly rude person for not talking to the guy, on the other hand, did she really not want to bother anyone with her problems. She slightly turned her head to look at the man beside her. He pretended to just look ahead and gave her the chance to study his features and make up her mind. The woman turned back to her glass and continued stirring its content with the little umbrella.  
"My Mum died," she revealed after a long pause.  
"I'm sorry to hear that. My condolences."  
"Thanks."  
  
Without him asking her to do so, she told him about everything that had transpired these past few weeks before she drew her final breath. When tears overcame her, he offered her a handkerchief and she gladly took it to wipe them away. The two of them sat silently, each lost in their own thoughts.  
"Thanks. I needed that. I guess," she said after a while, still clutching the cloth.  
"You're welcome," he replied with a warm smile, that she gladly returned this time.  
Another moment passed before he asked: "Would you bring her back if you could?"  
"Bring her back? How?", she asked in confusion.  
"Doesn't matter. Would you, if you had the chance?", he rephrased his question.  
"You mean, would I bring her back, if I could do it just like that?", she asked snipping her fingers at the 'that'.  
"Yeah," he simply stated.  
Her mind explored the possibility for a while, then she started laughing.  
"Did I do something funny?", the man wanted to know, absolutely baffled at her behavior, pointing at himself with his hand.  
"No, no you didn't. I'm sorry," she assured him, lightly patting him on the shoulder, before adding: "I just … I just thought something silly."  
"What might that be?", he wanted to know, raising an eyebrow in question.  
"Nothing. It's silly. You'll laugh at me for thinking of something like that!", she declared shaking her head.  
"Try me," he offered.  
Her eyes flickered across his face, a challenge clearly visible, and she decided that it didn't matter what he'd say anyway; he'd already heard her sob-story.  
"Getting someone back just like that sounds an awful lot like a Demon Deal," she revealed.  
To her surprise, he didn't start laughing but instead stared at her flabbergasted.  
"You-you know of those?", he asked astonished.  
"What? But there is no such thing!"  
Now it was her, starring at him in confusion.  
"Oh, but there is," he assured her, regaining his composure.  
"Wait, are you offering me a Demon Deal?", she asked after the information sunk in.  
  
"You could say that, yes," he admitted, a sly smile on his lips.  
"You're a Demon? A proper Demon? Black eyes and all?", she wanted to know, trying to keep her voice down, so the other patrons wouldn't hear their conversation, motioning her finger wildly across his general figure.  
"Well, mine are red, but yes, I am," he admitted.  
"Red?", she wondered, putting her hand back on the counter.  
"Names Crowley," he properly introduced himself.  
She stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging slightly agape.  
"You ... you're Crowley!? The King of the Crossroads, Crowley?", she finally managed to say.  
Again the Demon looked surprised.  
"Indeed I am. By now also the King of Hell, but I like to get back into the basics, every now and then. My reputation precedes me," he assumed flattered by the recognition.  
"Ehhm … No, not really ... I read the Supernatural-books ...," she admitted.  
Not daring to look at him, she turned back towards the counter.  
"Oh," Crowley only commented, downing his drink. "Well, the offer still stands," he mentioned casually.  
"Yeah. Sorry. No deal. As incredible as it would be to get her back, it is just not worth being torn to shreds by Hell Hounds in ten years time and thus making her suffer through my death. No, the conditions just aren't good enough for me," she declined, facing him again.  
"We could work on those conditions," he offered.  
Slowly she shook her head, a small smile on her lips.  
"Sorry. No. I don't want to lose my chance to see her again, upstairs," she declined again.  
"Well, then it's time for me to go. No business to be done here then," he stated, putting his hands on the edge of the counter to stand up.  
"Wait. Before you go, can I ask you a question? It's not every day that you get a chance to chat with the King of Hell himself," she asked, reaching out her hand to stop him.  
"Now you're just flattering me. Okay. Good. One question then I'm gone. Shoot," Crowley agreed, waving his hand.  
"What does a Hell Hound really look like? Edlund never really explained it," she asked, causing the other to burst into laughter.  
"Really? That's what you want to know?", he questioned in amusement.  
"Well, if you'd agreed to the deal, you could see them for yourself one day, but as you don't want to go down that road …," he started and looked at her, slight disappointment in his features.  
"Now you're giving me puppy eyes. Humans. I really don't understand you at times ...," Crowley complained.  
The Demon struggled with himself for a moment before he finally gave in: "All right, all right, I'll tell you what they look like."

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, this is another story that is partly based on personal experiences, though I'd like to point out, that I did not frequent any bars while contemplating the option.
> 
> If you want to listen to something, while reading this, check out Avantasia's "What's left of Me", it felt like the right tune to finish this.


End file.
